Don't Panic
by simplytrop
Summary: In which Alfred F. Jones is not so much American, as Americans have an improbable amount of similarities with aliens, and Arthur finds out that hitchhiking the length of the universe can be very nerve-wracking without tea.


**Don't Panic**

**Note:** Semi-crossover with Douglas Adams's Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy. **For easy footnote access, ctrl+f it :)**

* * *

><p>The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy had this to say about Alfred F. Jones. He grew up on the little planet of Cariamer that did produce the occasional person of interest, but was, on the whole, quite unremarkable.<p>

Which did not explain much about Alfred F. Jones because the entry went on to say that Alfred F. Jones was an adventurer, an opportunist, an attention whore, and terrible at interpersonal relationships. The Hitch Hiker's Guide also said that Alfred F. Jones was an aspiring superhero, had travelled the length of the galaxy under the Manifest Destiny movement, never took no for an answer, ate more than should actually be physically possible for his body mass on any given day, and generally caused chaos and made the front lines of the news of any planet that had the misfortune (or, some would say privilege) of being visited by him.

All in all, it was both entirely too little and at the same time, too much information about Alfred F. Jones.

If Arthur Kirkland could add to the entry, he would have written: Alfred is also an inconsiderate sod who could have told me he was an alien before he kidnapped me from my planet, which, all right, did save my life because approximately two minutes later, Earth was destroyed, but it was still damn inconsiderate of him and it's really a bloody wonder he isn't dead yet.

But Arthur wasn't a writer for the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so all he could do was stare blankly between the Alfred F. Jones entry in the book, and at Alfred F. Jones the not-actually-human being.

"You're not going to um… faint, are you?" Alfred asked. He was currently staring back at Arthur in a worried sort of way like he was taming a wild animal. Arthur felt this was rather insulting considering he was the sane one of the two.

"No," Arthur said, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that just this morning, he'd been rudely interrupted from his breakfast tea by a group of contractors who had promptly informed him that his house was to be demolished for a motorway. The contractors had then been interrupted mid-demolishment when an alien fleet had appeared in the skies and promptly informed the entire planet that Earth was going to be demolished for an intergalactic motorway.

And before Arthur could process either the thought that the house he'd lived in all his life was being knocked down, or that the planet his entire species had lived on all their lives was being blown to smithereens, Arthur was already the only human left in the entire galaxy. The only reason _that_ was true, was because Alfred F. Jones had come out of nowhere, grabbed Arthur who was still in his robe, shouted something about hitch hiking, and now Arthur was stuck aboard a spaceship that belonged to a group of aliens actively looking to find him and toss him out into space to die.

So among the other nasty surprises of the morning, Arthur also found out that his uncommonly attractive friend for whom he also might have a sort of thing for was actually an alien. It might actually explain the uncommonly attractive thing even though Arthur didn't want to think too deeply about why he was attracted to someone not even of his species. And also Alfred F. Jones really was completely shit at giving any sort of emotional reassurance because after dragging Arthur on board this alien spaceship sort of thing, he'd just showed Arthur how to read the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, stuck a fish in his ear, and sat back like this was supposed to explain everything.

"Cause you're looking kind of sick," Alfred said.

"I think I've got the perfect right to it, don't you? My house is gone! _England_ is gone! Everyone I know except for you is gone!" Arthur said ending in a bit of a shriek. "And you've just told me we're in a bloody spaceship of the Frezellians who are also out on a manhunt to throw us off the ship—"

"They were the only ones around to hitch hike from," Alfred said.

"You've stuck a fish in my ear that's doing god knows what to my brain—"

"It's a Babelfish that translates everything anyone is speaking into English for you. I thought you'd appreciate it," Alfred said with a bit of a pout that Arthur ignored. "You were the one complaining about not understanding a word the Frezellian was saying on the intercom."

"Much good that did me! I understand they're going to throw us off the ship into outer space which means certain death, you twat!" Arthur shouted.

"If you take a big gulp of air, you can survive approximately 30 seconds in outer space," Alfred supplied unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Alfred!" Arthur said.

"Don't panic, it says so on the cover," Alfred said, pointing to the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy that Arthur was still holding.

"I think I've got a perfect right to panic if I so please," Arthur said. Also, he wasn't panicking. He was just extremely lost and confused and trying to sort himself out, which may have come off as panicking, but most certainly was not.

"Just be glad it wasn't the Vogons," Alfred said. "The Frezellians won't read us poetry first. They just don't like being seen by other species because they've got these huge eyebrows that they're kind of sensitive about." Alfred grinned as he trailed off, looking at Arthur. "Actually with _your_ eyebrows, I'm sure we've got at least a—"

"Not another word." Arthur sent his most scathing glare at Alfred.

Alfred beamed at him, opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly stupid, and was abruptly interrupted when the Frezellians found them.

It turned out there actually were people with much thicker eyebrows than Arthur.**[1]** It also turned out that Alfred had been right about sympathizing with Arthur about the eyebrows.

"We had no idea you were one of us," the Frezellian who had introduced himself as Captain Griibo said quite cheerfully.

"_What?_" Arthur shouted. "I most certainly—"

"Am one of you, isn't that right, Arthur?" Alfred said, clapping a hand over Arthur's mouth and ignoring his jabs to Alfred's ribs.

Captain Griibo glared at Alfred. It was the sort of glare that was like the sun slowly being eclipsed – that was, his face being eclipsed by his eyebrows because they took up more or less half his face. Arthur felt equal parts insulted and relieved. "Of course we'll toss _you_ out," he said to Alfred.

"What? I'm with Arthur," Alfred said, loosening his grip on Arthur. "Right?"

Arthur felt a little bit better watching Alfred squirm as he straightened his clothes again – which really didn't have the desired effect because on top of dragging Arthur out of his house that day, Alfred had done it when Arthur was still in nothing but his robe and pyjamas. "Right, he's with me," he said.

Captain Griibo furrowed his brows and looked suspicious – probably – it was rather difficult to tell with those eyebrows. "If you say so," he said doubtfully. "Where are you headed to? We'll drop you off."

"Cariamer," Alfred said.

"That's only 500 light years away. We can drop you off on the way," Captain Griibo said. "Are you going with him or staying?" he asked Arthur.

"Going with him," Arthur said very quickly. He'd never had a head for numbers, so he felt entirely comfortable accepting that Alfred had come from a planet 500 light years away from Earth – he'd always felt that Alfred wasn't quite right as far as being human went.

"If you're sure," Captain Griibo said. "We've got plenty more masks on board, I suppose. You two must be close if you showed him your face," he said to Arthur.

Alfred grinned. "Very close," he agreed.

Arthur wondered if it was an acceptable time to start panicking now that he'd been mistaken for a bushy-browed alien species, and that bushy-browed alien species apparently thought he had a relationship of an intimate nature with Alfred F. Jones who wasn't actually human.

"Cheer up, at least they aren't taking you with them," Alfred whispered to him as they were shown out of the laundry room and to the nearest airlock. "Now try not to barf."

"What?" Arthur said.

Then they went through hyperspace.

* * *

><p>By the time Arthur felt like he wasn't going to hurl all over Alfred's shoes, they had already landed at the closest dock on the planet Cariamer. A mask that was rather reminiscent of a ski mask on Earth had been jammed on Arthur's face, and the Frezellians waved a cheerful goodbye to them as they took off again.<p>

Arthur pulled the mask off as soon as the ship was gone, and clutched it and the Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy as he looked around himself at the busy dock. It was filled with quite a lot of odd looking spaceships, and aliens of all shapes and sorts – some humanoid like Alfred, and others not even vaguely close to it. Most of their clothes looked more or less like what Alfred wore on a daily basis – that was to say, jeans and a sweatshirt for absolutely every occasion. Come to think of it, there _had_ been that one conspiracy theory that aliens were the origin of mankind and although Arthur was quite sure that couldn't be true, obviously American preferences in attire was proof otherwise.

"Home sweet home," Alfred said happily. "I haven't been here in fifteen years," he added, destroying all illusions that he might be like Arthur, though Arthur felt oddly comforted by the fact that Alfred's weirdness was consistent no matter what planet he happened to be from.

"Just how old are you?" Arthur asked.

"Two hundred and thirty five," Alfred said which temporarily boggled Arthur because he looked about nineteen or so. Of course, he had looked nineteen for all the three years Arthur had known him. For that matter, he'd never actually found out when Alfred's birthday was.

"Oh," Arthur said faintly instead. "I need a drink."

"Plenty of time for that later," Alfred said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go back to my place and then I can show you around my planet."

It turned out Alfred owned a flat not terribly far from the port where they'd been dropped, all things considering. It also turned out that Alfred, despite being 235 years old, was really only 19 years old in not just appearance, but also maturity because he had, without a doubt, the most disgusting teenage pigsty of a flat that Arthur had ever seen in his life even with Alfred's Earth apartment taken into account.

Then Arthur discovered what left over takeout could look like after being abandoned for fifteen years – that was to say, he took one step in the flat, tripped over laundry that he swore was crawling away, and face planted in something warm, moist, and very stinky.**[2]**

Arthur decided that he had really held up for long enough now.

He began to panic.

* * *

><p>It only took Arthur one very good wash, four pints, and two hours before he could look at anything in Alfred's flat and not go into hysterics. He could not, however, bear the thought of actually staying there until it was clean so he got to work. Alfred's flat on Cariamer was about ten times filthier than his apartment in England, and it sort of helped with the coping because when Arthur was cleaning, he didn't have to think about Earth not existing anymore. England not existing anymore. <em>Tea<em> not existing anymore.

"Tea's all right. I'm sort of sad about McDonald's though," Alfred said unhelpfully.

"You would be," Arthur said as he tossed a stack of DVD-looking things into the trash bin.

"Hey, I still wanted those," Alfred said. "No, don't touch that! I got it from Eroticon Six and it's even autographed on the bottom," he shouted in an unsuccessful attempt to keep Arthur from throwing away a bizarre looking statue. Three breasts, Arthur thought vaguely, they must have some interesting porn in the galaxy.

When Arthur had first met Alfred, he'd assumed Alfred was an American what with his butchery of the good language, a love for neon-coloured desserts, and a passion for violent sports. Now it turned out that it wasn't so much that Alfred was American, but that he was an alien. This explained a lot about Americans.

Arthur reached for a pile of Alfred's dirty laundry that had been mouldering in his flat for who knew how long and threw all of that in the garbage as well.

"Stop throwing all my stuff away," Alfred said, trying to take things out of the bin as fast as Arthur was throwing them away.

"I refuse to live in a place this disgusting," Arthur said, wrestling the triple breasted statue out of Alfred's hands and tossing it back into the trash. Really, Alfred would thank him when he realized Arthur had saved him from perishing in his own filth.

"You won't have to live here for _long_," Alfred said.

Arthur abruptly dropped the pile of dirty socks that Alfred had let built up. "What?"

"Well obviously, this is just a stop by, and then I'm taking you to see the other parts of the world. I can't believe you've spent your entire life on one planet," Alfred said.

By now, Arthur was past panicking. "Oh," he said. He found the cleanest bit of Alfred's floor and sat down on it. He wondered if he could live it down later if he curled up in a foetal position now.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked. "You look like you're going to be sick again."

"Shut up, Alfred," Arthur said.

* * *

><p>In the week that followed, Arthur discovered that not very much shocked him after he found out everything he knew was a lie and there actually were aliens in the world. He found a myriad of bizarre things piled up in Alfred's apartment – most of which he threw away so there would actually be enough room for himself and Alfred. He also discovered that nowhere else in the world was there tea. It made him rather proud that England had gotten this right. It made Arthur a lot more depressed though, to realize that he was never going to get a decent cuppa ever again.<p>

He had, however, managed to clear out Alfred's apartment which was a small victory, but it still made Arthur feel like he had at least a little grasp on life – even if it was just Alfred's flat. Arthur got used to waking up in the morning and arguing with the food processor, trying to describe what exactly a cup of tea was like, and failing every day.

"It's aromatic and scented and a bit bitter. Hot, of course," Arthur said. "Can you handle that? I won't even ask for cream or sugar. It should just taste like… like _home_."

The food processor gave him a cup of something that tasted like hot pond water.

Then after Arthur gave up on the food processor, he would argue with Alfred about going out which he usually won if he was stubborn enough though it only meant that Alfred went out running errands all day while Arthur was left at the apartment. Then Arthur picked through Alfred's things, occasionally channel surfed the thousands of channels Alfred had on his flat-screen HD television**[3]**, and read random bits of the Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy.

He felt a bit of righteous anger when he saw that the only mention that Earth got in the guide was _mostly harmless_. There was no mention of England at all. Or tea.

Today though, Alfred seemed determined to get Arthur out of the house when all Arthur was determined to do was to sit on Alfred's newly visible couch and channel surf alien television.

"Come on. We'll go to a pub. You like pubs," Alfred said, grabbing Arthur by one elbow.

Alfred was also uncommonly strong but then again, alien. Of course.

"I do not like pubs," Arthur denied rather pathetically because both he and Alfred knew this was untrue. Although Arthur vehemently claimed that he was the only one in all of the United Kingdom willing to go drinking with a Yank like Alfred (back when he'd still thought Alfred was an American), in fact, it was the other way around even though it wasn't like Arthur _needed_ anyone to take him home after drinking or anything.

"They have drinks you wouldn't even imagine on Earth," Alfred said.

"I _like_ the drinks we have on Earth," Arthur said. "Had," he corrected himself.

Alfred sighed. "What do I have to do to get you out of the apartment?" he asked. "I know you're kind of a hermit, but you're actually starting to worry me which is not something I would normally do, so it's really saying something if I am willing to bribe you to get you out."

Alfred could be even more bloody minded than Arthur when he wanted to be, and he had the look on his face so Arthur knew he wasn't going to win this one. On the other hand, it didn't mean he couldn't make it very difficult for Alfred.

"If I have to leave, I want to go in that," Arthur said and pointed to the television screen where there was some news announcement playing about some new type of spaceship that had come out. It was very shiny and very pretty – just the sort of thing you expected to come out of science-fiction movies except that it was a ship, not a saucer, and also it was real.

Alfred stared at the screen. "You want me to steal you the Heart of Gold?"

"Who said anything about stealing?" Arthur said, appalled that it was the first thing Alfred thought of.

"It's the Heart of Gold. There's no way to get to it _unless_ we steal it," Alfred said. "It has that new improbability drive that everyone's talking about – the first one ever made." Alfred was starting to get the manic look in his eyes the way he did when he thought up another brain-damaged scheme. "They always invite important people to these things and when this is completed, it'll be the biggest event of the century. I'd have to be… I'd have to be the fucking president to get to it!"

Arthur had a feeling that this was rapidly spiralling out of control the way things did when it came to Alfred F. Jones.

"Fuck yeah, I'm going to be president of the galaxy!" Alfred said excitedly.

"What?" Arthur said.

"You can't just waltz in there and steal the most important spaceship of the century. Geez, Arthur, you really are impractical," Alfred said and before Arthur could get righteously offended, he said, "No one can even get close to it unless you're really really important, and no one's more important – well, more well known, than the president of the galaxy. So when the ship's completed, we'll be invited to the official christening, of course, and that's when we'll steal it!"

"That's theft!" Arthur said.

"Yeah, but they're probably just going to give it to rich people who wouldn't be using it right anyway or putting it in a museum which is even worse, and think of all the things we could go see, all the people we could help if we had that ship," Alfred said, eyes shining. "It's like the Batmobile except a thousand times more awesome."

"You're not Batman," Arthur said. "You've only saved me so far and that one's debateable."

"That you know of," Alfred said which made Arthur wonder just how many planets he'd saved random people from and where they all were now.

"But you're going to have to come out with me – you can't stay inside for two years until the ship is completed, you know," Alfred said.

Arthur was still trying to wrap his head around this sudden change of plans.

Alfred turned and beamed at him. "And that should give us just enough time to get me elected as the President of the Galaxy."

Oh bollocks, Arthur had walked right into that one.

* * *

><p>The problem was that Alfred was extremely charismatic, extremely attractive even by most alien standards, and he was also flashy and insane. He also had a habit of sprouting ridiculous ideas that were as impractical as they were impossible. Most people took this as a sign that the universe had really gone to the pits that Alfred F. Jones was running for the presidency, but found him rather likeable even if sometimes it was just that they liked to dislike him. There were only six people in the universe who actually knew how the world worked and they recognized good presidential fodder when they saw it – mainly being that the president drew attention away from the people who actually had the power.<p>

On these grounds, Alfred was extremely attention-grabbing and therefore, prime presidential material even if he didn't get thrown in jail quite as many times as previous ones had, and his scandals tended to involve more of the breaking orphans out of an orphanage and feeding them desserts until they got sick**[4]**, than of the starting bar fights or being found on Eroticon 6 type.

Most people attributed this to Arthur, who had turned out not only to be surprisingly good at politics, but also had a ruthless streak that was probably indicative of his earlier teenage years. The biggest problem about all of this was that Arthur had developed an apparent inability to say no to anything Alfred wanted**[5]** and anytime anyone so much as looked at Alfred funny or got in his way, Arthur would pull a variety of strings to get rid of a person or to push Alfred through the next obstacle. Arthur wasn't entirely certain why he did it himself because he was completely sure that making Alfred the President of the Galaxy was the most terrible idea in a long string of bad ideas coming from Alfred.

"You have no intention of _actually_ building a giant robot to protect the universe from pollution," Arthur said after reading over yet another one of Alfred's ridiculous speeches.

"Why not? It's a great idea," Alfred said.

"Because it's stupid and completely impossible. Do you know how big the galaxy is? The universe? There is _no such thing_ as the end of the universe," Arthur said and smacked Alfred on the top of his head with his printed speech.

"Sure there is. They have a great restaurant there. Haven't I taken you there yet?" Alfred asked.

Arthur folded his arms and raised an eyebrow to give Alfred his most "Are you serious? You can't be serious" look.

"Guess not. I'll bring you for our anniversary," Alfred said and Arthur was momentarily startled into dropping his scowl.

"Anniversary?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, since we got off Earth – not to be insensitive or anything," Alfred said since even now, Alfred knew that Arthur didn't like thinking about how he had no place to go back to anymore – no home.

"You know, I've already left the apartment," Arthur said, changing the subject instead before he could start to feel morose and lonely again. "You don't have to steal the Heart of Gold anymore."

"If we stopped campaigning, you'd go right back to the flat and stay in there forever," Alfred pointed out, grinning again. "Anyway, schedule it. I'm taking you to the Restaurant At The End of the Universe," he said.

"I'm not actually your PA!" Arthur shouted, but Alfred was already leaving to greet one of his actual PAs who had just come in the door.

* * *

><p>In the following years, Arthur found himself at a lot of fancy parties which was apparently where most campaigning took place. There was usually some speech that Alfred was expected to give, a lot of alien babies he was expected to kiss, and then dinner that more often than not turned into a crazy, drunken party.<p>

It wasn't as though Arthur hadn't had his fair share of a wild youth either – he'd been soused for most of his teenage years as far as he could remember, but he'd shaped up into a fine young man. Still, he was sure he was never going to get used to alien parties or, more specifically, alien drinks.

"No, not that one!"

Arthur startled in the middle of picking up a red cocktail from one of the servers milling around the room. Although this particular party had started out being a fancy dinner social, it seemed that most aliens – like humans – quickly devolved into lewd drunkards as soon as the alcohol started getting passed around a little too freely. While generally frowned upon in polite society on Earth, it also seemed that this particular alien planet had gotten over the concept of inhibitions and gotten a lot more into exhibition. There were aliens flirting, aliens groping each other, aliens stripping naked, and incomprehensibly, roses everywhere. It reminded Arthur of France, and being English, he had a natural aversion to all things French which was why Arthur fully intended on getting drunk and hopefully forgetting all about this particular planet. It didn't seem like anyone would care if he did.

Arthur picked up the drink anyway and glared at Alfred who had tried to stop him. "What?" he said.

"You have no tolerance and _that_ is the strongest drink here," Alfred said and reached for the flute.

"Go get your own, prat. This one's mine," Arthur said, pushing Alfred away and downing the flute before Alfred could stop him.

Surprisingly, the alcohol went down easily and was quite sweet – a little too sweet actually. It was also working pleasantly fast as suddenly that froglike alien stripping down right in front of Arthur was a lot funnier and less purely obscene.

"That tastes goooood…." Arthur said, feeling warm and very happy. "I want anotheeeeer one, Alfr… Alfred."

His tongue didn't seem to want to work properly, but Arthur didn't really care as he tried to take a step toward the server with all the drinks, and promptly found the world tilting. The next thing he knew, he was breathing into Alfred's neck and then being shifted so he could see Alfred sighing and rolling his eyes at him.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young man—alien—whatever you areeeeee," Arthur said, waving an arm. "_I_ should be rolling my… eyes… my eyes at _youuuu_."

"Right, Arthur," Alfred said and Arthur felt himself being shifted. He face-planted into Alfred's broad shoulder. "I told you it was too strong for you."

"I have wossit… tolrance," Arthur said. He couldn't quite remember the word at the moment. "Tolrence? Tole… telo… tol…"

"Tolerance," Alfred said.

"Yeah, that," Arthur said and beamed at Alfred. Actually, Alfred smelled rather nice at the moment – like that cologne Arthur had made him put on before they came here that he had heard three women comment on that night already. Alfred also looked very fetching in the suit that Arthur had chosen for him. Of course it was a miracle that it was still unwrinkled although Alfred's hair had escaped his styling and now there was that piece that stuck straight up like an antennae. Arthur wondered if it might actually be an antennae and he pushed away from Alfred so he could reach and tug at his hair.

"Stop that," Alfred said, pulling Arthur's hand away and then tugging him close into his arms.

Arthur felt very comfortable and warm there and he leaned on Alfred, smiling stupidly at him until he remembered that the reason all this was happening was because Alfred was an _alien_ and they would never be together. Furthermore, Earth was gone so Arthur was never going to get home and it was all Alfred's fault.

Arthur began to feel depressed as his vision blurred and his nose stuffed up.

"Oh shit, don't cry. Are you crying?" Alfred said, patting him on the shoulder and then rubbing his arms.

"Earth is gone," Arthur sniffled. "My house is gone."

"You live with me now, remember?" Alfred said.

"You don't even live in a real house, wanker," Arthur cried even though Alfred's flat wasn't that terrible really, and he didn't have much of a complaint with it as long as Alfred actually picked up after himself. Lately they'd hardly been back there anyway – but at the moment, Arthur felt like it was the most awful thing in the world.

"I'll get you a real house!" Alfred said. "Okay? Any one you want. I'm even getting you the ship, remember?"

"There's no tea," Arthur sobbed, feeling more sorry for himself than ever.

He felt Alfred shift him again. "All right. Time to go home," Alfred said, and began half-carrying, half-dragging Arthur in some direction.

Arthur didn't really care when all he could remember was his wonderful tea and how he would never get to drink it again even as Alfred bid good night to a variety of people.

Days that followed these sorts of nights were inevitably punctuated by awful hangovers, horrible humiliation, and Arthur vowing to never show his face in public ever again.

Alfred laughing at him definitely did not help.

"It's okay. Everyone thought you were cute," Alfred said, walking around their hotel room half-naked as Arthur huddled beneath the covers of one of the beds.

"I ruined everything. Your career, the election, _everything_," Arthur wailed muffled into the pillow.

"No you didn't. The Fancres really liked you," Alfred said. "More than one gave me their numbers for you to call and me, being awesome, rejected them for you. Now come out and let's get breakfast, brunch – whatever," Alfred said and tugged at Arthur's sheets until he loosened his hold and Arthur found himself staring back at Alfred's bright, amused smile.

"Coming out?" Alfred said.

Arthur frowned, not about to give in that easily.

Alfred sighed and grinned. "I'll get you a hangover cure. Be right back," he said and bounced back off the bed.

It turned out that being a near-extinct species in the universe**[6]** meant that Arthur was excellent arm candy of the rare and exotic variety. In all the time they worked through intergalactic politics, Arthur found himself propositioned by all varieties of strange and unusual aliens – the most current being the Fancres of yesterday night.

It also turned out that what Alfred meant by "rejected them for you" was that after Arthur had had the fifth number scribbled on his hand on their way out, Alfred had, in a fit of childish temper, declared in front of a reporter for the Galaxy Daily – that Arthur was exclusively his human partner and entirely unavailable**[7]**.

The first thing Arthur had to do upon getting over his hangover was accompany Alfred to a press conference where Alfred repeated the same exact thing, much to Arthur's consternation.

"I can't believe you just told them that," Arthur said, glaring at Alfred from across their private ship after the press conference.

"If you hadn't gotten drunk last night, I wouldn't have had to tell them that," Alfred said, glaring right back at Arthur as though he blamed Arthur for this.

"If you didn't have to steal the spaceship and become president, we wouldn't have had to go," Arthur snapped.

"If you didn't keep sulking at home, I wouldn't have had to do that," Alfred said childishly.

"If you hadn't dragged me off my planet—"

"You would have died!" Alfred shouted and then pointedly put on a pair of headphones.

Arthur felt a little bit guilty at that and felt annoyed at himself for feeling guilty. He certainly was not going to apologize first in any case.

* * *

><p>Arthur did not expect Alfred to bring him to the Restaurant At The End of the Universe – especially not when they were fighting. But if Alfred was trying to make up with him, it was working because watching the universe being destroyed was too mind blowing for Arthur to actually remember he was mad at Alfred – especially when he found himself clinging to Alfred at the sheer enormity of the universe going to pieces right in front of his eyes.<strong>[8]<strong>

"You say it does this all the time?" Arthur said faintly.

"Yeah. Pretty cool, right? I knew you'd like it," Alfred said, and when Arthur looked over at him, he was giving Arthur a sheepish grin.

"Yes," Arthur said.

There was a lot more that he wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to say to Alfred. But "thank you" and "I'm glad you're here" and "I'm glad you saved me and brought me with you even if you're utterly off your rocker" were some of those things.

* * *

><p>In just two short years, Arthur found himself on the platform right behind Alfred being photographed by millions of reporters gathered out at the airstrip of the Heart of Gold spaceship.<strong>[9]<strong>

"That is definitely the most awesome space ship I have ever seen," Alfred was saying and turned to beam at Arthur, entirely ignoring how a couple thousand aliens had gathered out here to listen to his speech and that grinning at his friend/assistant/whatever-it-was-they-were was not exactly appropriate.

Worse, Alfred had the gall to wink at Arthur who then had to suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan. Alfred was really going to do it. Right after their two year campaign and all of their hard work and actually getting Alfred elected as the President of the Galaxy, Alfred was going to be the biggest twat in the universe and blow it all on some Robin Hood fantasy he had.

"And now, I am going to steal that ship!" Alfred finished off the last of his speech.

The worst part was, Arthur was going to let him get away with it – actually, he was going to _help_ him get away with like he did absolutely everything else when it came to Alfred.

Alfred turned and extended his hand to Arthur.

Alfred's captive audience was still staring expectantly at the stage. There were a few cautious chuckles like they weren't entirely sure if it was a joke or not.

"You're not really going to steal it, are you?" Arthur said with resignation even as Alfred took his hand and pulled him off the platform, already breaking into a run across the airstrip.

"We've been planning this day for two years. Of course I'm going to do it," Alfred said cheerfully.

His hand felt warm and big around Arthur's – secure – the way it always was going on two years now.

"Yes, but you also decided that on a whim," Arthur reminded him, huffing to catch up to Alfred's speed. Especially now that the audience had realized the new president actually _was_ serious about that last bit of the speech. Arthur could hear the shouts and when he glanced back, there were a throng of people running after them.

"It's a great idea," Alfred said, coming to such an abrupt halt at the door of the ship, that Arthur just about stumbled into him. Then Alfred shoved Arthur onto the ship ahead of him, breathless, and immediately abandoned Arthur for the ship's pilot controls.

Arthur managed to get the door shut just as the first of the aliens swarmed the ship, and then stumbled into the room after Alfred.

Alfred was already getting them off the ground. "I'm activating the improbability drive. Hang on, babe!" he shouted to Arthur – the warning entirely too late when the ship abruptly took off and Arthur found himself bouncing into the nearest hard surface – in this case, Alfred in the pilot's chair. And when the awful feeing of having his entire stomach turned inside out finally subsided, he found himself collapsed against Alfred and utter stillness around them.

"They'll never catch us with an improbability drive," Alfred said and rubbed Arthur's back as Arthur tried not to be ill on him. "That was actually easier than I expected," he said.

"I bloody hate travelling like this," Arthur muttered as he cautiously sat up in case his stomach decided to upend itself.

"You'll get used to it," Alfred said and beamed at Arthur but didn't stop rubbing his back.

They just stared at each other for a moment. Alfred was no less gorgeous than the first day Arthur had ever met him – that strange young man who sat down across the table from him at the pub, introduced by mutual friends as being Alfred F. Jones. And even before the past two years of touring the entire galaxy, going wherever Alfred went. Even before being the last human being in the world and tea no longer existing and therefore no longer being the one thing Arthur could count on through thick or thin. Even before all this when Arthur had had his one-sided crush on Alfred when he still thought he was a human back on Earth. Even before all of this, Arthur thought that his life was only bearable because of Alfred, and this was a question that had been building up for ages now.

"Why did you choose me to come with you?" Arthur asked, staring at Alfred whose face was very close and his eyes were crinkled and blue like the skies back on Earth – a shade that no other planet could ever really imitate. "Was it really chance?"

Alfred smiled, open and sincere as he had always been. "What do you think?"

Arthur wondered why it had taken him so long to see it. "I don't think it was," Arthur said and went red. He'd never been the best at expressing himself even in situations less intimate than this. "As improbable as that is," he said.

Alfred groaned and his arms tightened around Arthur. "You have an _awful_ sense of humour," he said.

Arthur leaned forward those few inches and kissed him, fast – just brushing his lips against Alfred's and pulling away when Alfred tried to follow. "And instead of teasing me all this time, you could have just said so. What is this supposed to be? A dowry?"

"I like to spoil my lovers rotten," Alfred said and tried to kiss Arthur again.

"Lovers?" Arthur demanded.

"Lover," Alfred corrected.

Arthur smiled and rewarded him with another longer kiss this time, humming a little when Alfred's back rubbing turned to running his hands down Arthur's sides, teasing the hem of Arthur's shirt up from where it was tucked into his trousers. For a guy who was two hundred and thirty-five years old, Alfred kissed with all enthusiasm and no finesse. Arthur would have to remedy that at some point, but they had had plenty of time for that later.

"Where do you want to go first?" Alfred asked when he pulled back, smiling at Arthur. "Anywhere in the entire universe."

Arthur smiled back. "Well," he said, pressing his hand to Alfred's wrinkled suit and smoothing it down. "I think I'd like to stay right here just for now," he said. "There's something I want to try."

He leaned down and kissed Alfred again, sighing with contentment when Alfred opened his mouth and kissed him back.

After all, they had all the time in the universe for anything they wanted later.

For now, Alfred tasted like tea.

* * *

><p>end.<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

**[1]** Alfred deserved that elbow to the gut for saying they had to leave the Earth before they found people with bigger eyebrows than Arthur.

**[2]** At least, Arthur hoped it was fifteen-year-old takeout. Because otherwise, it would mean that alien food actually moved and Arthur didn't think he could handle eating something that tried to crawl back out of his stomach.

**[3]** It figured HD television would be something the Americans picked up from the aliens.

**[4]** Alfred had also gotten sick along with the orphans – that had been a huge headache for Arthur to sort through.

**[5]** In reality, Arthur would say no, but he'd help Alfred anyway.

**[6]** The universe apparently didn't give a damn about sexuality because every other planet had some different sort of reproduction method.

**[7]** In fact, Arthur would later learn that actually by then, a whole genre of porn had already come out portraying Arthur and Alfred is various bizarre sexual positions and Arthur really hoped that Alfred's body was very much exactly the way it appeared because he wasn't sure how he was going to deal with it if Alfred really turned out to have two dicks or tentacles like some of the porn which Arthur definitely had not accidentally watched in morbid curiosity.

A movie had been made of their supposed lurid love affair. It apparently culminated in the destruction of Earth and Arthur being swept into the arms of the future to-be-president and saved from certain death despite being from an inferior planet. The sad part was despite the rest of the galaxy being too interested in what Alfred and Arthur got up to behind closed doors, nothing had happened behind closed doors except Arthur having to pick up Alfred's dirty socks for him.

**[8]** Alfred had given him an extremely confusing explanation about how all of it was even possible. It involved time travel and physics and something about moving backwards so, in essence, they could watch the universe ending itself every few hours and not actually be dead. Arthur was never going to understand alien technology.

**[9]** Sometimes Arthur questioned just how Alfred actually got everything to work out in his favour every time. Then he'd see that grin and boyish charm in action and remember that he'd fallen for the exact same thing multiple times and even knowing better. The problem was that if you didn't listen to what Alfred was actually saying, he could be very persuasive indeed, and as no one actually listened to what politicians said, this was all worked out quite well in his favour.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing USUK again so I looked through my fic folder and ended up finishing this nearly complete oneshot. I feel kind of like I'm committing blasphemy on HGTG. I still don't have the willpower to work on anything though…


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